Not all those who wander are lost.

Tag Archives: The Floating Market

Yeah, I know I should stick to the vapes. But sometimes, particularly when it’s cooler than it has been in weeks and there’s even a little breeze up here, I just can’t help myself.

Not super busy

It’s not like I’m super busy, anyway. I mean, it’s pretty sweet, getting to use the outdoor breezeway in the housing estate to set up shop, but on a night like this? Nobody is going to come see me unless they’re desperate. No; they’ll be walking along the river, or taking advantage of some air conditioned club, not going to see the freaky elf girl with the tarot cards. My business will pick up in the autumn; it always does. People respond to the Samhain vibe, even if they don’t follow the seasonal religion. Blows my fucking mind, because Lughnasadh is a much more auspicious time for getting your fortune told, but who am I? I’m just the freaky elf girl.

I’m not too bothered about the lack of business.

I’m not too bothered about the lack of business: it’s not like I have a big overhead here, and with the government’s Supernatural Rehoming Initiative, any one of us who’s willing to live in a high rise gets it practically rent free. We spice up the neighbourhood, see. We’re trendy. That is a hell of a thing. I was always taught to fear gentrification, but now that global supernatural protections are in place, I am the gentrification. Makes me want to laugh, but I feel like my image would suffer if I were too merry.

It doesn’t matter on a night like this. And I can take or leave the clients most of the time, anyway. Even though they learn about this shit in school now, most of them are only going to come around if they are with a group of friends and have some ridiculous question about their love lives, or they’ll go to the other extreme and ask me for stuff I simply cannot deliver. Hello: I’m a fortuneteller, not a djinni.

One long smoke break

Yeah. I light one fag from the embers of the last. This whole night is going to be one long smoke break. Good thing there’s wifi here: if I’m lucky I can stream half a series of Lucifer and nobody will even notice.

From The Author: Probably one of my favourite things about blogging in Second life, or it might really be my favourite, is what I think of as the circle of inspiration. I find inspiration in the wonderful things I get to build stories around here, and in so doing, I get to call attention to great creators. For example, I’m blogging for a new event called The Floating Market. It opens tomorrow. I also have some wonderful friends who create beautiful, beautiful music. So when Attic sent this Paper Forest Gacha in a blog pack, I couldn’t help but think of a beautiful song by my friend Talis Kimberley: Paper Worlds. I’ve included a link to a YouTube video of Talis performing this song live with some other friends of mine. I hope you’ll listen to the song; the link is at the end of the post.

It isn’t just space

It isn’t just
Space though I hope we’ll take our
Place out there like the stories say we
Will where other stars shine it isn’t just
Space and it isn’t just
Time though the future casts bright
Echoes back and the past ensnares me
Still through centuries’ gaze it isn’t just time

I’ve learned to like my here and now, but I need escape and that’s allowed

And I’ve learned to like my here and now, but I need escape and that’s allowed
I can leave behind this madding crowd:

Here are paper worlds, to draw me in….

Here are paper worlds to draw me in
I can taste life lived in a different skin
There are paper worlds that have kept me sane
And I read them again and again and again
There are paper worlds I hold so dear
Others still that ache till the wound runs clear
Here are paper worlds to stir my soul
To break my heart and leave me whole
And leave me …..…..whole

And leave me …. whole

And leave me …..…..whole

And it isn’t just me

And it isn’t just
Me who filled my childhood
Summers and my winter nights with
These I know it isn’t just
Me and isn’t it
Fine how such a tiny
Doorway lets us in like Alice

Squeezed into words – isn’t it fine

Squeezed into words – isn’t it fine

And I’ve learned to like my here and now, but I need escape and that’s allowed
I can leave behind this madding crowd:

Here are paper worlds to draw me in
I can taste life lived in a different skin
There are paper worlds that have kept me sane
And I read them again and again and again
There are paper worlds I hold so dear

There are paper worlds where no-one dies,
Where all are mad, where vision lies
Where rivers run where arrows fall
Where planets burn where sirens call
There are paper worlds where the sun turns cold
Where love is banned, where none grow old
Where heroes fail and heroes win
You can taste life lived in a different skin

These paper worlds I hold so dear

These paper worlds I hold so dear
Till the wound runs clear
These paper worlds have stirred my soul
To leave me whole, and it isn’t just me
I say it isn’t just me (who has lived in paper worlds)

So very angry. He has all this land, all this Land of Ronaofa, and I am his only child, biology notwithstanding. He has adopted no one else, and I am old enough now to take a husband and begin a household of my own.

Father’s dislike for Nathaniel has softened over the years but never completely gone away, even though he has come to respect my intended more and more as a scholar. So his decision to purchase a home for us in a faraway Realm, in some huge city, feels like a slap in the face. There is no political advantage to this move. We could do so much good work here in the libraries.

I couldn’t look at him after this pronouncement. It was so unfair! As if my own father doesn’t want me near him any more. So instead of staying to fight with him, because I’m not a bloody teenager any more, I went off for a walk in Storybooke Gardens.

The perfect house

Of course, it was just my luck that I came upon the perfect house about ten minutes in to my walk. I was just beginning to feel better, too.

Heart on the door

It even has a heart on the door! When I think of a place like this, and then compare it to some dingy high rise in a city I’ve never even been to? I just want to scream. Right. Right. Breathe, Gwyneth; Breathe.

Storybrooke Gardens

I walked away from the beautiful house to view it better from a distance. Storybrooke Gardens is one of my favourite places to spend time when I need to clear my head. Valene brought me here many years ago with some of the kittens, and I’ve always loved it.

I won’t dwell on my anger.

I won’t dwell on my anger. I’ll just enjoy this day, this walk, the way this new Silvan Moon Designs gown floats around my ankles, and I’ll find some beautiful things to look at.

I asked a friendly-looking mushroom where I should go.

I asked a friendly-looking mushroom where I should go. Well, I mean, he was smiling. That’s friendly, right? Right?

His voice was whispery and wispy, and the only word I could make out was “Alice”. That was a good shout: I remembered there was a part of the Gardens dedicated to Alice in Wonderland, and who doesn’t love Alice? I thanked him and moved on.

What a beautiful, whimsical place!

What a beautiful, whimsical place! There were little statues of frogs and bunnies and playing cards—something new everywhere I looked. I could stay here for a while, I think.

So I did. I sat down at the table and pretended to have tea with the Queen of Hearts, possibly to convince her to cut off Father’s head. That was satisfying.

Eventually, it was time to return.

Even so, I knew I’d have to go back to Ronaofa and either speak to Father or ignore him until dinner time.